


Demons & Angels

by Shekiyah



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:47:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27608521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shekiyah/pseuds/Shekiyah
Summary: "It's not business and I'm not leaving without talking to Tommy," you raise your voice a little, panic lacing through your tone as you realize you might not be allowed to see him. You'll lose steam by morning, unable to meet his eyes and tell him how you feel.Arthur nods, his head down as he pauses before he looks back to meet your eyes, his voice calmer, softer."Right then," he nods to Finn, "you, off to bed. Now."Finn does as he's told, eyes wide."Right," Arthur clears his throat. "Right. Well. Something I need to tell you first, right, is that Tom's…"He trails off, his hand waving as if to catch words in the air to fill his mouth."Tom's not himself right now," he says finally, meeting your eye as if to push the meaning into your head."Not himself?" You repeat, dropping your chin to your chest."Yuh," he said, nodding more vigorously as you catch his words. "He's more, y'know, calm… right now. He's had a bit of opium to sleep and he might not be in full form."
Relationships: Tommy Shelby/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 79





	Demons & Angels

You worked yourself up all afternoon to show up at his door. You'd had enough of Tommy Shelby and his attitude. You were sick of him brushing off your ideas, keeping you in the dark except for your small part in whatever plan he had. You were tired of hunting him down to speak to him and his words always being so clipped with you. He kept you at a distance, careful to not touch you as if dealing with a leper.

He might be the devil of Small Heath but you thought you had been friends well enough for him to spare you a look, a thought, a smirk. Something. And so you were on his doorstep that night, late enough to ensure he was home, knocking so rapidly that you almost knocked Finn in the head when he cracked the door open. Your anger waffled as Finn looked at you. 

"Oh, sorry Finn," you say as you look to your feet. 

"Why are you knocking like a copper this late, (Y/N)?" He asks, wide-eyed. "Arthur was 'bout ready to blow the door out."

"Sorry, I just wanted to talk to Tommy," you say, looking anywhere but at the child in front of you. "Is he home? Can I speak with him?"

A large hand grips the door above Finn's head and pulls the door wider. Arthur sticks his head out, scowling. 

"Fuckin' hell, (Y/N)," he barks. "Why are you here at this hour? I nearly blew your head off. Come in, come in."

They both retreat and you come in, closing the door behind you. Finn is dressed for bed already and Arthur is half dressed, his shirt half buttoned, as if he was just about to sink into sleep himself. 

"I came to talk to Tom," you say, regaining your conviction.

"At this hour?" Arthur squints. "He doesn't know you're coming, does he?"

You shake your head as you clasp your hands together. 

"No, but-"

"This can't wait till mornin'?" He scratches the back of his head. "It's late, love, and I'm sure any business--"

"It's not business and I'm not leaving without talking to Tommy," you raise your voice a little, panic lacing through your tone as you realize you might not be allowed to see him. You'll lose steam by morning, unable to meet his eyes and tell him how you feel. 

Arthur nods, his head down as he pauses before he looks back to meet your eyes, his voice calmer, softer. 

"Right then," he nods to Finn, "you, off to bed. Now."

Finn does as he's told, eyes wide.

"Right," Arthur clears his throat. "Right. Well. Something I need to tell you first, right, is that Tom's…" 

He trails off, his hand waving as if to catch words in the air to fill his mouth. 

"Tom's not himself right now," he says finally, meeting your eye as if to push the meaning into your head. 

"Not himself?" You repeat, dropping your chin to your chest. 

"Yuh," he said, nodding more vigorously as you catch his words. "He's more, y'know, calm… right now. He's had a bit of opium to sleep and he might not be in full form."

"Opium?" You frown. "Why's--"

"He takes it to sleep," Arthur says as he shuffles in place. "He don't talk about it much. I think you'd be alright."

He squints as he smooths his mustache down. 

"A woman shouldn't set 'im off like I do," he mutters to himself. "Come'n, love, I'll show you his door."

Arthur walks to the stairs and goes up them before you find your feet and follow, more questions than answers from the interaction. You both stop at the first closed door at the top of the stairs, and Arthur points to it as he steps away from it. 

"He's just there," he said, continuing his walk down the hall. "Wait 'til I'm out of sight, or I'll set him off, and we don't want fuckin' war flashbacks tonight, love."

Your eyes widened as your hand froze over the doorknob. 

"Just be easy," Arthur said, his hands gesturing wildly. "It's all a bit of a dream to him right now."

Arthur disappeared into his room as you stared at the door, uncertainty tainting your anger. You were used to unaffected, strong, stubborn Tommy Shelby. Who would this man be behind the door?

You finally took a deep breath and turned the knob, moving into a room of heavy sour smoke. It tickled your nose as you looked at the mostly bare walls. The only furniture was a wooden chair, an end table, and the small bed that Tommy Shelby lay across as he contemplated the ceiling as if you weren't there.

You closed the door, fidgeting as you sank into the wooden chair.

"Tommy?" You call, hoping it would snap him out of whatever was happening.

He frowns as he turns to you, scrutinizing you before he looks back to the ceiling.

"That's new," he says to himself with a shrug. "I suppose she's been on my mind but it's not normal to conjure."

"Conjure?" You ask, lost in his words.

"I see spirits, love," he says. "Not the living. You can be off now."

His words brush you off like a maid and rekindles your resolve.

"Why have you been pushing me away?" You ask as you sit on his bed near his feet with your arm propping yourself up as you watch him. He took a deep breath.

"Do you think I tell people things?"

He stayed still, a picture of calm waters, as he laid on his bed with his hands behind his head as he stared at the ceiling. 

"And I do?"

"You're telling me now."

"No," you sputter, "I'm asking a question."

"People don't ask questions about things they have no care for."

"Have you always been this obstinate, Tommy Shelby?" You shake your head as you look to the ceiling.

A heavy silence fills the room as you both stare above to the blank ceiling. You fall into your head, the dark corners that you retreat to when you can't quite grasp those around you, and you start to shuffle through the worst explanations to fill the silence. This was a terrible idea. I'm a fool.

"I am cursed," he said, breaking you from your thoughts. "Everything I touch gets tainted. Broken."

You soften as you look over, your mouth shut in fear a response would silence him. His face is pinched, his eyes searching above him, as if he can't find the words. There's never the right words. 

"You fit," he said. "You don't flinch at the violence. You don't flinch at the business. You've never given me the look."

He stops, finally looking down to his feet to look over you, through you. His eyes cover your every curve and he gives a slight nod before he looks back up to the ceiling.

"The look?" You whisper, afraid that anything louder would stop him, take him out of whatever trance had him. Whatever the opium opened in his head.

"Disgust," he said. "Fear. Loathing. You've never stopped looking at me like I'm just a man."

"You've never been anything else to me, Tommy," you say as his face drops, his blue eyes melt over you like clear skies. 

"I am to everyone else," he lowed.

"Should I be afraid of Thomas Shelby, Devil of Small Heath?" Your eyebrow quirked up involuntarily, taunt thick in the air.

He smiled at his epithet on your lips, the words rolling out of your mouth. They didn't have the usual feelings behind them that he had grown used to. You knew the answer before you asked and nothing would change your certainty.

**"I think I'm in love with you."**

He says it like he isn't there, like his words aren't really attached and settling into the world around him. It just tumbles out of his mouth without thought. He mulls the words over once they're in the air as if he hadn't actually considered it before that moment.

Your heart catches in your throat, expanding, exploding in your chest. He looks down to you, mouth slightly parted as he looks over you again, his words settling into his brain.

"Odd," he says, watching you frozen in place as he sits up. "I've never placed that thought. But that would be why you're here now, innit? You've been in the back of my brain so long you've appeared. The opium conjures what I reject."

"Why reject me, Tom, when I've always been by your side?" 

"Why poison the only good?" He breathes out. "I'm done with this talk. You're like a mirage, if I touch you, you're gone."

You sit frozen as he cocks his head and reaches out as if to move a curtain away. His fingers ghost over your lips as his mouth slacks and his eyes flare. Shock and anger fight over his features like lightning in a summer thunderstorm.

"I'm not disappearing, Tom," you whisper against his fingertips. "The opium didn't conjure me. You touched me and I'm still here, unbroken."

"Fuck."

It's all he uttered. Sharp. Succinct. He pulls his hand back as if he burnt himself on you. 

"Kiss me."

He buries his face in his hand, muttering nonsense to himself.

"I'm telling you I feel the same," you rasp, your heart fluttering as the words fill you with a jolt of fear. "You can't confess your feelings and refuse to kiss me."

"I'm afraid to kiss you," he breaths out, flustered by his own words. His hand wipes his mouth and shakily hangs in his lap.

"Why?"

"Because if I start I don't know if I can stop."

"Who says I want you to?"

Tommy hesitates but his hand finds your cheek, his thumb brushing it softly. Your hand finds the base of his neck and you pull him to you, your kiss hungry. Tommy matches your passion, his hesitation dripping away in the flames as you taste the whiskey on his tongue and a sour taste you can smell in the air around you. You breath out a soft moan as he bites your lip and his hands cup your face as his kisses move across your jaw. 

"That sound," he growls as he pulls you into his lap, "I'll spend forever in that noise."

You chuckle, but your breath hitches as he kisses the soft spot on your neck. You wrap your arms around him and squirm in his lap. His teeth rake the spot and you're seeing stars, fucking planets orbiting your head. You moan louder and he growls into your skin, ripples of pleasure shooting down your spine.

"You like that," he says like it's fact, and it is. Oh, it is. 

Your dress is over your head before you realize, only the cool air causing goosebumps across your flesh makes you register it's disappearance. He presses you back, pulling you both backward before his hand finds your chest and he lays you flat on your back. 

"Hell is the absence of that noise you make," Tommy mumbles as his hands run along your legs and his nose tickles your thighs. 

He searches, tests you, settles there as if he's willing to do anything to keep that noise in his head. You moan lightly when he touches the right spot and grow louder as he dives in, his hands pressing into your skin harder as your body wriggles from the intensity of the feelings he gives you. He hums as you arch your back against the bed. 

You hiss, bringing your hand to your mouth to bite as you push against him. There are other people in the house and you can't yell the house down. You look down to see the crinkle of amusement around his eyes and his hand reaches to pull yours from your mouth. 

"Your brothers are in the house, Tommy," you whine, fighting to keep your voice down as your eyes roll back. 

"They've heard worse, love," he said as he climbs your body, his words growling down your ear. "But I've never heard something so sweet. Moan my name again."

He got his way. Tommy Shelby always got his way.

When both of you collapse together, breathing hard in each other's arms, Tommy pulls you close to his chest.

"I broke my rule for you," he says as he kisses the top of your head. 

"Tommy Shelby has rules?" You twist to look up at him. "I always thought you look at rules and pass them by."

"I am selective with which ones I follow," he says as he pulls your lips to his. "I just have the one I've never broken."

"And that is?" You smile lazily, tired and enjoying his touch. 

"Don't endanger the innocent."

Your brows knot together as you open your mouth to protest.

"My hands on your skin put you in danger," he says before you can speak. "I've put a target on your back with my bloody hands."

You kiss him slow and soft.

"Well," you say as you pull back. "I guess the devil of Small Heath will just have to protect me, then."


End file.
